


on the stranger’s side of your door

by redbullbrittlesbee



Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Food mention, M/M, Mutual Pining, alcohol mention, it’s been so long since i’ve tagged a fic idk what to put here, not that they know it’s mutual, there’s a little christmas moment and it’s cute, they yearn and yearn and-, well mayhaps.... just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbullbrittlesbee/pseuds/redbullbrittlesbee
Summary: Brad is yet another new thing in David’s life following his divorce. Everything in him says to keep his distance, and it proves to be somewhat impossible.
Relationships: Brad Bakshi & David Brittlesbee
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	on the stranger’s side of your door

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i haven’t properly written and finished a fic in awhile so hopefully this good! it’s just so much yearning and cute moments idk the point got away from me after awhile. the title is from Why We Ever by Hayley Williams of course <3

David hears light rapping against the glass wall to his office and swivels around in his chair to see Poppy standing there with her coat draped over her arm. “It’s almost midnight, go home!” her muffled voice chirps through the glass. She smiles at him as if to bid him goodnight and heads towards the elevator, which doesn’t take long to arrive and whisk her away.

David sighs and slowly shuts his laptop. He figures she’s right, he should probably get out of there now before he ends up working until early morning. The Mythic Quest studio always feels a bit strange after hours and his office can feel too big, like his bed. Staring absentmindedly at the empty chair that belongs to the vacant desk on the other side of the divider between them, he remembers the history of the building they all work in. It spooks David enough to get him to grab his coat and swiftly make his way out of there and down to the parking lot.

David slides into his car, rushing to start it so he can warm the chilled interior. Months ago, once the dust had finally settled around his difficult divorce with his ex-wife, he had bought this car as a gift to himself and marker of his new beginnings. It’s his second choice, actually, since Ian jeered him for being a middle-aged man with the sports car he originally bought and could not afford. It’s a bit embarrassing in hindsight, but at the time he had just gotten carried away with his newfound autonomy and voids to fill.

He pulls out of the parking lot with every intention to go straight home, but on the drive there he notices a bar with an electric sign that glows pink, purple, and blue. The iridescent haze it seems to leave around the front door peaks his interest, and it’s been awhile since he’s had a drink somewhere that wasn’t on his couch while underneath his favorite throw blanket. So without much thought, he pulls over in front of the gray building and quickly finds himself inside. 

The ambiance is classy but not pretentious, and it doesn’t take him long to find an open seat at the bar. The music they’re playing is a bit slow, something by Genesis, and David begins to excitedly hum along. Once the bartender is in earshot, he only asks for a glass of chardonnay, and he quickly regrets not asking for something a bit more fun. 

“Bourbon for me, thanks. Something imported if you have it.” David hears. He turns to see a slender man in a red sweater with dark curls and a bright smile that he flashes at the bartender taking a seat on the stool next to him. The man must feel David staring (which, he didn’t even realize that he was doing) and he lands his gaze on the blonde. “What, was the ‘imported’ thing too much? I think I deserve it.”

The tone in the man’s voice isn’t rude; it’s playful, in fact. The overhead lighting reflects off of his brown skin like pearlescent moonlight, and David feels his mouth go dry as he parts his lips to respond. “Ah, no, no! Great choice. I’m sure you deserve it, I would never question that. Ah, um—are you celebrating something?”

“I am, actually. I just signed onto a new job.” The curly-haired man chuckles softly, and David isn’t sure if it’s out of endearment or not. He kind of hopes so. David has always known that he's attracted to men as he is to anyone else; he’s had his crushes and briefly had a boyfriend in high school. He’s never been ashamed, never really gave it enough thought for that to be possible—but now he finds himself in awe and feeling too big for his own skin.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! What do you do? Not that you have to tell me or anything—”

“I’m the new Head of Monetization, I’ll be working for this video game studio. Not really my thing, but. It’s a lucrative industry.” the man shrugs, cutting off David’s rambling. They’ve received their drinks by now and he swirls his gently before taking a sip. David sits taller at the sound of the other man’s words; he knows the higher-ups in Montreal have been interviewing for that position for Mythic Quest.

David hasn’t bothered to nurse his wine, already halfway done. “Hey! That’s so funny, I’m the Executive Producer for a video game studio. So . . . may I ask who you’ll be working for?”

“Cold Alliance,” the man says with what seems like a knowing glint in his eyes. David frowns, disappointed for many reasons. “No, I’m kidding. I hear that those guys are annoying pieces of shit. I’m gonna start asking the questions now, though. What’s your name?”

The blonde feels his face flush, but not from the alcohol this time. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself. I’m David. David Brittlesbee.”

“Brad. Well, it was cool meeting you, David. I’m gonna head off; I’ve got my first day tomorrow and I don’t wanna get carried away in here. Don’t let me stop you, though, you’re clearly having a good time. Your cheeks have already turned pink. It’s cute.” the man, now known as Brad, says to the blonde in one breath. He takes the last sip of his drink and slides off of his seat, slowly weaving himself through the tables and the crowd to exit. David watches him leave, and props his head up on his hand when he realizes that he never actually found out where Brad will be working. He sighs when he notices that it’s not just the chardonnay making him buzz, but also the feeling akin to butterflies—or something of a less cliche nature, he hopes.

He only has one more drink, just a beer instead of the piña colada he wanted to order (especially since no one would be around to tease him for it). Once all has been said and done in the bar, he heads out but realizes that he can’t drive himself home now, more-so because he’s too distracted by his own thoughts about Brad. David lets out a slightly frustrated groan and pulls out his phone, and he’s not surprised to hear Poppy’s Australian accent unamusedly yelling at him when he calls to ask her to pick him up.

• • •

David strolls out of the elevator and into the office, already stressed out by his peers. He got a text from Ian early this morning asking to push the code lock for Raven’s Banquet before they release it, which is supposed to be in a week. He’s running over different ways to shut down the Creative Director’s request when his assistant, Jo, comes rushing up to him. She’s breathless with her laptop clutched to her chest as usual and she shoves his morning coffee into his hand.

“Good morning! Okay, so, Ian called for a staff meeting which ended five minutes ago because he didn’t want to wait for you. Sue needs to talk to you but I told her that her needs come last. The new guy is in your office, I don’t know what he does but—”

“Uh, thank you, Jo.” David cuts off her bullying-infused rundown of his day and begins to make his way to his office. As he opens the door, he finds himself in front of a familiar head of dark curls and bright smile. “Brad?”

Brad leans back into his chair and crosses one leg over the other, his smile turning into a coy smirk. “David! Surprise, yeah?”

“Wait, so . . . last night, you already knew who I was? And you didn’t say anything?” David asks, closing the door behind him at the mention of the previous night.

“Yeah, I recognized you from the company website. Freckles, pretty blue eyes. Hard to forget. I figured we could hold off on formality for one night.” Brad shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as David’s face goes flush. “Anyways, you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. Ian is trying to push for this new feature that is absolutely not monetizable and you’re gonna have to talk him out of it.”

“As if he ever listens to me,” David scoffs, biting his inner cheek. He didn’t mean to say that, considering it’s not the best impression to give a new employee.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. And even if he doesn’t—I’ve got your back.” Brad says, and there’s something gentler in his tone. That’s all he says before turning back around to his desk and continuing to type out the email that he’s working on. 

David isn’t sure how to respond to that, or if he even knows exactly what Brad meant, so he slips out of the room silently to find Jo and have her remind him of what’s on his plate for the day. 

Working with Brad is so . . . _new_ , for reasons other than the obvious. David has never worked with someone he knew nothing about before. Not like this. Each day, Brad seems to only operate behind stone walls. He does his job, he gets what he wants, occasionally humors the antics of his coworkers, and then he’s gone. But there are moments when a stone will fall loose from one of his walls, and David can catch a glimpse of the person behind them. 

David knows that Brad loves _The Cars_ , as he often hears them playing softly from the dark-haired man’s headphones while he works. He knows that Brad will be in a bad mood all day if he doesn’t have two cups of coffee, but on edge if he has three. He knows that Brad loves to help others but would never admit it, so it always comes with a price. He knows that for his first two weeks, Brad always ordered the same pasta dish for lunch, like a security blanket of sorts. And David knows that when he says that he’s going out for lunch, he’s actually just taking a quick nap in his car.

David often thinks about the way his heart fluttered the first time he stumbled upon him in the parking lot, dark eyelashes resting atop his cheeks and curls dropped messily over his forehead. The feeling was unlike anything he’s used to.

David has walls built up, too, and they seem to turn to glass when Brad is around and his confused feelings towards the taller man don’t help much. It’s almost Brad’s superpower or something to be able to see past false pretenses and use the underlying truth to get what he wants, or just for the fun of it. He finds ways to push a few of David’s buttons, remind him that the walls are glass, but it’s never as extreme as the others get it. David doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and he and Brad often just find themselves skirting around each other.

Which is why David’s heart drops when the elevator refuses to open as he and Brad are trying to go home and they’re the last ones in the office.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no . . .” David mutters to himself, repeatedly jamming his thumb against the button to request the lift.

The raven-haired man emerges behind him, two fingers holding his coat draped over his shoulder. “Something wrong?” His unexpected voice startles the blonde, who lets out a small yelp that makes Brad chuckle.

“Erm, the elevator. It’s not working, it won’t open.” David sighs, letting his forehead hit the wall before him.

“Good thing we have stairs, David. C’mon,” Brad says, nodding towards the staircase as he starts off in that direction. David trails behind him, embarrassed that he freaked out so easily. Except his embarrassment turns back into panic when Brad jostles the door handle to the staircase and it’s locked shut. They look up at the glass to see a small note taped to it, obviously in Ian’s handwriting.

_You said that I “don’t know how to pull a real prank”, but what would you call this? Enjoy the night, Bakshi — Ian_

“You’ve gotta be goddamn kidding me.” David groans, covering his face with both hands in frustration.

“I like how he signed the note as if anyone else would do something this annoying.” Brad jokes.

“Aren’t you . . . Doesn’t this upset you?” David asks as he watches Brad stroll back towards their office.

Brad shrugs, stopping in the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. “It did for a moment, and then I thought of how I’m gonna get him back for this—with a real prank, perhaps—and now it’s whatever. There’s leftover Chinese food in here, we could microwave it? Watch a movie?”

David’s jaw almost drops at how collected Brad is, and his stomach tightens at the dark-haired man’s proposal. It sounds lovely, but it’s still a night spent with Brad (technically) outside of work. Alone.

It’s not like he has another choice.

Therefore, it’s not long before they find themselves sat on opposite ends of the sofa in the Testers’ Room and watching a movie, eating what was probably someone’s lunch for the next day. David has no idea what they’re watching, so his attention falls on Brad as the taller man is actually invested in the movie. Not enough for the blonde’s gawking to go unnoticed, though.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Brad asks with a mouth full of brown rice, brows furrowed. It’s adorable. David shakes his head “no” without a word and tries to pay attention to the film.

Only several minutes go by before Brad breaks the silence with a question yet again, eyeing up David this time. “You’re always in these flannels and fleece jackets, your wife the one picking out your outfits?”

It’s clearly a harmless joke, but the mention of a wife nearly makes the blonde choke on his lo mein. “I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Sweater Every Single Day. And no, actually, I’m . . . I'm recently divorced. And she never had any input, I’m responsible for my fantastic style, thank you very much.”

Brad’s expression softens into something David hasn’t seen from him before. “Shit, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

“No, that’s alright. I’m over it, I guess. We just weren’t right for each other. I don’t think we ever were, really.” David says softly before taking another bite of his food.

“How do you know? When someone is right for you, I mean.” Brad asks unexpectedly.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I know what that’s like.” David admits, thinking back to his parents’ relationship—or lack thereof. “I think you can just feel it.”

“Huh. Okay, well, if you want to increase your chances of that happening, you’ve gotta stop with the fleeces.” Brad teases, presumably to lighten the mood back up.

“Whatever,” David rolls his eyes playfully. “What about you? Married? Divorced? Non-believer of love?”

“I’m not _that_ cold, jesus christ. I’m single. The last time I was in a committed relationship was 15 years ago with my boyfriend at the time. Haven’t really found anyone that I liked that much since.” Brad shrugs.

 _Boyfriend_. David’s heart flutters as quickly as his stomach drops, deciding not to unpack why this new information excites him. “Oh. My last boyfriend was in my senior year of high school. Didn’t last very long.”

David notices a light flicker on in Brad’s eyes at his words, but tries not to read into it. “Nice. I presume that you were hella nerdy in high school, so I’m impressed that you could pull a guy.”

“Oh, god, who says “hella” anymore? And I was not a nerd. I just played a lot of _Street Fighter_. And he was in the Drama club, which I also wanted to join but my parents wouldn’t allow it. I was in Band briefly, though, before they pulled me from it.” David rambles, and he can’t believe the raven-haired man is actually listening.

“Okay, I respect the _Street Fighter_ part. But, like I said. Band nerd. Same thing. And with a theater kid for a boyfriend at that. You can’t write this stuff.” Brad continues to tease him, which seems to be his favorite method of expression.

“Don’t you dare knock theater! He was a bad kisser, though, and put no effort into our relationship. But my taste in men has evolved by now, I think.” David says with pride.

Finished eating, Brad lays back into the couch with his mile long legs crossed one over the other. “Oh yeah? To what?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome. And kind of mean.” David quips without thought, and he regrets it the minute it rolls off of his tongue. Brad stares with unreadable eyes as crimson creeps up the blonde’s neck to heat his face.

“Kinda cliche, but I can get behind that.” Brad smirks, and he goes back to watching whatever’s left of the movie.

No longer hungry, David sets down his food and relaxes into the couch with shot nerves. He’s not really sure what’s happening, and he’s admittedly scared to find out. So he doesn’t question it. Instead, he remembers that there’s two bottles of red wine under his desk, and he quickly runs to retrieve them. By the time he returns, Brad has put on another film he’s never seen and he pours them both a glass. He finds a spot on the couch again, this time a bit closer to Brad. The dark-haired man says nothing of it, just taps his glass against David’s and thanks him for the drink. 

The night winds on that way; they drink over a discussion about their own lives, which mostly consists of David rambling on about himself and Brad not giving much away.

The time is the last thing they keep track of, and before he knows it, David is slowly blinking himself awake from the sunlight coming into the office. It doesn’t take him long to realize that the two of them fell asleep, and his head is currently on Brad’s shoulder. David slowly rises so he doesn’t wake him, and he turns on his phone to check the time. It’s only 6AM, and he peeks through the window in the wall to see that no one else has arrived yet, and probably won’t for another hour or two. Slowly, he lowers himself back onto the couch and gently places his head on Brad’s shoulder, pretending to be asleep.

The moment doesn’t have to end just yet.

• • •

As if it’s an unspoken agreement, the two men continue to work and live with one foot in each other’s lives. At work, they exchange glances, meet fingertips when passing a pen, hold doors open with their backs so they have an excuse to slip past the other just a bit too closely. It’s never much more than that, except for the occasional moments when life pushes them in each other’s direction. Like the night David locked himself out of his car and Brad had to drive him home.

_David let out a drawn yawn as he ambles to his car. Raven’s Banquet has been out for two weeks and between staying on top of the rollout of the game’s features and warding off nazi players, he was exhausted. Having reached his car, he jammed his hand into his pocket for his keys, which weren’t there. So he checked his other pocket and everything else on him that could possibly have been holding his keys before he realized that he left them inside the vehicle. David let out a frustrated huff, propping his elbows on the roof of his car, his head in his hands. He hadn’t paid for his AAA membership and therefore couldn’t call them, he wasn’t going to ask the cops for help, and there was nothing around for him to break into it himself._

_Before David could finish lamenting, he was startled by Brad in his usual style of just appearing, unannounced until he felt like announcing himself. “D-man, don’t tell me that you’ve locked yourself out.”_

_David turned bashfully to meet the taller man’s onyx eyes that always held a playful glint. He actually didn’t wear a sweater that day, instead only a button-down that had been unbuttoned down to his sternum as he was heading home himself. It took David a moment to realize that he’d been holding his breath. “Um. It happens to people more often than you’d think. I’ll just call an Uber.”_

_“Sure it does. And don’t bother, I’ll just drop you at home myself.” Brad shrugged, walking over to the most expensive car in the lot to get in it. He stopped once he realized that David wasn’t behind him, still standing by his own car as if he was frozen. “You coming?”_

_David snapped out of it and nodded, swallowing hard as he joined the taller man. They both entered the car, Brad providing the unexpected gesture of holding the passenger side door open for the blonde. The leather seats were cool underneath David’s body, and he felt his nerves settle as they began to drive._

_“I don’t live too far from here, about half an hour off the first expressway.” David mentioned._

_“I know.”_

_“You know?”_

_“Yeah, I pay attention to details. It’s how I do what I do.” Brad said coyly._

_“Ah, I see. It’s a part of the ‘kinda-sociopathic asshole’ schtick.” David chuckled. That was enough to get Brad to look at him momentarily, a smirk still playing on his lips but his eyes gone defensive._

_“Who’s says it’s a schtick?” Brad scoffed, stoicism still coating his voice._

_“The jar of licorice that was left on my desk,” David started softly. “I mentioned to Jo that it was my favorite candy when I was a kid. I know it wasn’t her because she would’ve done something far more sadistic with that information. You were the only other person in the room.”_

_Brad rolled his eyes with a gentle laugh and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Yeah, so now you owe me.”_

_“Owe you what?” David asked as they pulled up to a red light._

_Brad turned to meet David’s baby blues, his expression just another card pulled from his deck of unreadable faces. “I’ll think of something.”_

Or, there was the time David saw Brad cry for the first time.

_The Mythic Quest studio was at its loudest and most crowded, as they were holding their second annual Christmas party. The holiday season never mattered much to David. At least, he decided early on that it shouldn’t since his parents never got along long enough to genuinely celebrate it. He paced around the get-together, a cup of eggnog decorated with reindeers in his hand, and he exchanged small talk with the families of his coworkers. It wasn’t meaningless, but it felt disingenuous on his end considering that he didn’t have any real desire to be there._

_Once Ian decided to make a “Christmas toast” that would actually just be fifteen minutes of self-praise, David took that as his cue to wander back to his office to be alone. He had only seen Brad once that evening when the party had just begun, and he figured that the reclusive man must’ve slipped out before anyone had really noticed that he was there to begin with._

_As David pushed open the door to their office, he heard the sharp sound of sniffling, only to see Brad sat at his desk with his hand over his eyes. Brad immediately picked his head up at the sound of the door. His eyes were puffy under the shadow of his raven curls, cheeks tear-stained. With his phlegmatic and arrogant nature missing, he was just so . . . small. Lonely. His eyes begged to be defensive, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to rebuild his walls at that moment._

_“I-i’m so sorry, I’ll just . . . are you okay?” David asked. He was met with a turned cheek and silence, and just as he took that as his cue to leave, Brad’s low voice cut through the quiet of the room._

_“My Nana . . . I used to spend the holidays with her in Poland, but then I got caught up in my career, so. I stopped going. I stopped answering her letters and calls. These days, she doesn’t want to see or hear from me anymore. I hurt her, obviously, and I just miss her is all.” Brad explained at length with a shake in his voice. He still hasn’t met David’s gaze again. “But it’s all good. I’m fine. No worries. I bet you’re shocked to find out that I’m not a total Scrooge.”_

_“No, I’m not, actually.” the blonde laughed softly. With the door then closed, he sat in his own desk chair to be closer to Brad. “I just didn’t think you liked people in general enough to stick around for this.”_

_“Oh, I don’t. I’m here for the open bar and gingerbread cookies.” Brad clarified, quickly attempting to erase the vulnerability of the previous moment._

_“I can’t say I’m not here for the same reason. Though, I did bake those cookies myself, so I could just go hone and let the batch I made myself and a bottle of prosecco be enough for me.” David said, only half-joking._

_“Ah, so you know your way around an oven?”_

_“Not really . . . I can only bake cookies. And I can cook many versions of pasta and sauce, all delicious . . . You realize how much you don’t know how to do when you get a divorce, because someone else covered all of the areas where you fell short.”_

_“Hmm. Well, if you’re ever looking for a meal that consists of more than two ingredients, you’re welcome to my place for dinner.” Brad suggested. David wondered how obvious it was that his face lit up at what was just proposed._

_“I would love that.” David said earnestly. Their eyes held each other for a moment too long before Brad tapped David’s knee and rose from his seat._

_“We should probably head back into this party before anyone starts to freak out.” Brad huffed, holding the door open for the blonde._

_“Bold of you to assume anyone here is sober enough to notice our absence.” David deadpanned humorously. Passing through the threshold, they stopped in their tracks simultaneously once they noticed the mistletoe that hung above them. David couldn’t remember if that was there before, but that was the least important matter at hand. “Oh.”_

_Brad inched closer to the blonde, reached forward and fixed his collar, leaving him frozen and breathless. Then, he raised his arm and pulled the decorative mistletoe down from where it hung, and tore it split down the middle. Leaning in even closer, Brad slipped half of the mistletoe in David’s pocket and whispered close to his ear, “Merry Christmas.”_

_David watched him pull back and disappear into the sea of content, intoxicated adults and their bored children. David touched the piece of shrub in his pocket, relishing in the ghost-touch of Brad’s hand against his thigh. Unsure of what to think or feel or do, David followed Brad’s example and let the party swallow him whole again._

_At least this time he had something to keep on his mind as he tried to listen to stories about the lives of people he didn’t know._

And tonight, David is actually taking Brad up on his offer for dinner.

He’s parked outside of the building at the location Brad gave him, a dark high rise with warm light illuminating the windows. David checks his appearance one last time in the overhead mirror, making sure every hair is in place and that his tie is properly knotted. He sucks his teeth at the small nick on his cheek from shaving, but doesn’t let it stress him out. He peels himself out of his car, double-checking that his keys are in his pocket.

He walks up to the front door and gives the handle a tug, realizing that he probably has to get buzzed in. He definitely doesn’t remember which apartment number Brad gave him over the phone earlier, so he opts for shooting the other man a text.

**Brad, hey! I’m out front but I might’ve forgotten which bell to ring. Mind buzzing me in?**

****

_**I’ll consider it.** _

David furrows his brows at he reads the message, but before he can contemplate whether or not Brad is fucking with him, a blaring buzz cuts into his thoughts. He moves swiftly to pull the door open and walks into the modern front lobby. Not super flashy, but there’s no second-guessing the luxurious nature of the complex. It’s not really David’s taste, but he’d find it hard to imagine Brad living anywhere else. The blonde’s phone dings with another text from him.

****

_**E7 :-)** _

Making note of the apartment number, David giggles softly at Brad’s unexpected use of a smiley face as he boards the elevator. He presses for the 5th floor, surprised to see that the dark-haired man doesn’t live on the top level. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his floor, quickly finding apartment E7 at the other end of the hall. David just stares at the door, jamming his hands in his pocket nervously. He wonders if it’s too late to cancel and go home. This just feels so personal, so different from . . . whatever it is they’ve been doing. Often times it feels like he barely even knows Brad, and he supposes that’s what dinners like these are for. But to be outside of work, in the other man’s home—David can’t help but feel out of control in a way that he’s not used to.

David takes a deep breath, and as soon as he begins to approach the door, it’s pulled open to reveal Brad standing behind it. “Took you long enough. I was wondering if you planned to stand there all night.” 

Embarrassed and now even more nervous than before, the blonde sheepishly mumbles an explanation as Brad ushers him inside. His string of unnecessary apologies lulls to a stop as he takes in the space around him. David isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting—maybe something modern, darker, cold—but nevertheless he’s surprised to see how _cozy_ Brad’s apartment is, even though it’s probably more square footage than his house. There are plants all over; a deep emerald sofa facing the lightwood gold-trimmed credenza with trinkets and books sat atop of it; beautiful framed artwork lined the walls. Combined with the warm lighting and the scent of dinner wafting in from the kitchen, it all made David’s heart jump. 

“So, uh, what are we having tonight?” David asks, mostly just to fill the silence.

“Takeout,” Brad smirks as he wanders into the kitchen. “There’s this great Thai restaurant a couple blocks down, they have the best curry so I ordered some for us. You didn’t think I was going to cook, did you?”

“No! Well, yes, but I don’t mind. Thai food is my favorite, anyways.” 

“I know.”

From the threshold, David watches Brad plate their food and place it on the marble-top kitchen island. The taller man sits on one of the barstools and waves David over to join him. The blonde sits across from him, still elated by the fact that Brad remembers mundane details about him. There’s something . . . domestic about all of this, and David’s heart can’t seem to decide if it’s too painful or exactly what he needs.

Quietly, they graze at their dinner, sneaking looks at each other as if they’re breaking some sort of rule. It’s innocent, on David’s end at least, because everything Brad does comes with an undisclosed but palpable motive. 

“I’ve been thinking over your input on the next merch drop, and your ideas aren’t entirely bad.” Brad finally says with a mouth full of tofu.

David rests his fork on his plate with a sigh and lets his gaze fall to Brad’s hands. “Brad . . . why did you invite me over? I’m not complaining, it’s just—it seems out of character for you?” he asks softly, not bothering to beat around the bush. He’s not sure why; it feels confrontational, which is unlike him. His fear of getting hurt again seems to surpass his fear of rocking the boat. Except now the boat has capsized in the middle of the ocean, and he can’t swim.

“You don’t know my character well enough to determine that.” Brad retorts. He leans in and rests his crossed arms on the countertop, and David can feel the other man’s stare burning through him. “And aren’t we friends? Friends have dinner together.”

“You’re not as hard to peg as you think. And, yeah? Well, no—I don’t know, are we?”

“Ouch, Brittlesbee. Colleagues, then?”

“Again, yes and no. I’m not entirely sure what’s happening if I’m being honest. Yeah, we work together, and friends invite each other over for dinner, but then you do things that I can’t explain-” David is cut off by Brad reaching forward and wiping curry away from the corner of the blonde’s mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Like that.”

“What are you saying here, David?” Brad’s eyes are as suspenseful as his words are calculated, and they twist like a dagger impaling David’s stomach.

“I’m saying . . . I’m saying that you don’t let anyone in. You don’t let anyone see you sweat, or cry for that matter. You don’t stay late at the office for no real reason with everyone who works at MQ. If Ian needed a ride home, you’d tell him to go fuck himself. But it’s different with me, and I don’t know why.” David vents at length. Not only is he out at sea with no raft, he’s drifted right into a whirlpool.

Brad’s expression is steady, and his lips hang parted with intention to say the right thing. “I wanna show you something, follow me. Please.”

David sighs, unsurprised that Brad is completely ignoring everything that he’s put on the table. The two men rise from their seats one after the other, David watching Brad’s raven curls as he follows the taller man to the balcony. It’s about as chilly as Los Angeles can get outside, but the cool fresh air starts to settle the jump in David’s leg. Brad almost steps on David’s foot as he steps closer, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The dark-haired man stares off at everything or nothing in particular, and the blonde watches him with bated breath, waiting to see what this is all about.

“When I moved into this place, it was two years after my graduation, one year into my first real job, and six years into my relationship with my boyfriend from college. When I was with him, I did it all—I told him how I felt, I asked what we were after a few months of dating. I was the first one to say ‘I love you’, and I did. I really did.” Brad says anecdotally, plucking at the beaded bracelet around his right wrist.

“Woah, if I’m being honest, I’m surprised you’ve lived here for that long.” 

“I’m not too fond of change.”

“Yeah, neither am I . . . Well, all of that stuff sounds romantic. I met my ex-wife in college, and we know how that went.” David chuckles humorlessly, Brad following suit.

“See that? That star there to the left, bright and pretty close to the moon?” Brad points to what David hopes is the same star that he’s looking at. “He got it named after me as a gift. As an apology, really, because I asked him to move in here with me and after six fucking years together, he said no and broke up with me instead.”

“Jesus christ, I’m so sorry. That guy sounds like a dick. You know you deserve better than that, right?” David says earnestly, and Brad finally turns to look at him. They're so close that David could actually count the freckles on Brad’s nose if he tried.

“Yeah. Well, I don’t know. I know that I always made the first move, and now I don’t do that anymore.” Brad says gently. Even when his voice goes soft and breaks, it has this unmistakable confidence and control that makes David’s body run cold and neck burn red. “Remember when I said that you owe me? For the licorice?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought of something. Make the first move, Brittlesbee.”

Brad doesn’t even have time to let his lips twitch up into a smirk before they’re met with David’s, but he can’t seem to help himself from smiling into their kiss. Brad’s hands traveled up David’s body, one underneath his shirt and the other into the back of his hair. David presses deeper into the kiss at the touch, and it’s only the lack of air reaching their lungs that makes them eventually break away.

“Our dinner is getting cold,” David points out breathlessly.

“If that’s what you’d prefer to do right now, we can go ba-” Brad’s cut off by David going in for another kiss, the blonde’s hands gripping his hips.

“No, but I’m not that easy. Woo me first.” David challenges, actually pulling away this time. He breaks into a smile at the sight of Brad’s messy head of curls and flushed complexion.

“I thought I did that part already, but fine. Wanna see me kick your ass at _Street Fighter?_ ” Brad proposes with his usual arrogance that David almost finds endearing at this point.

“Try me.”


End file.
